


Caught Myself Thinking

by MooseFeels



Series: Turn Me On [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Castiel, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His next heat comes like a storm in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel’s heat comes again a couple months later, and it shoots through the house like a wave. Like a lightning bolt. Dean comes home from the library one day and Castiel lunges at him through the door. Clings to him and bites and sucks at his neck. Doesn’t even say anything, because Dean can smell it, and he knows. This isn‘t like last time at Sam’s house, just at the beginning of it- this is full bloom of it.

It makes Dean’s stink go wild, and it goes from a bloom of cotton candy sugar sting to something a lot stranger- the saltiness of Dean’s stink starts playing with it. It counters with cedar and iodine, and the resultant smell is their relationship in a scent.   
Castiel starts undressing him, slamming the door shut with a kick. “Fuck," he growls. “Puppy, wanted you all day. That big dick of yours, your big muscles. Wanted you to throw me in the nest and fuck me. Missed you. Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave again."  
Dean’s trying to string together a sentence, but he can’t quite get it together. “Baby," Dean manages.  
Castiel pulls away from his neck and says, “That’s right, Puppy. Babies."  
Dean just growls in response.   
Castiel is so damn pliant in his hands, some kind of supine creature intent on fucking Dean’s brains out. On getting fucked.   
Fuck semantics, Dean manages to think before he scoops Castiel up and practically sprints to the bedroom.  
Castiel tugs him down on top of him, and bites and sucks and nips. Dean pulls Cas’s underwear down and looses a long, rumbling purr.   
“That ass," he says, in wonder.   
He kisses at Castiel’s hipbones, he runs his tongue over the shape of them, moving closer and closer to Castiel’s cock.   
Dean never really had interest in sucking cock, until he met Castiel.   
Castiel goes hard fast- heat is so beautiful- and Dean lathes his tongue on the underside of his cock.   
Castiel cries out, and the sound is like the song of glasses played with water. High pitched and pure and intense.   
Dean hums, and Castiel cries out again.   
Dean moves away from Castiel’s cock and nudges his legs open. Takes a look at his hole.   
It’s so beautiful. It’s already loose- the heat, again- and a sweet release of his slick is slipping out. It smells like syrup- like agave or honey or something. Dean noses into it, inhaling deeply.   
“Oh! Dean!" Castiel cries. “Cold. So cold."  
Dean’s ears perk up at that, and he exhales. Warm and slow.   
On days where Dean is firing on enough cylinders to really think, he considers recording Cas. The sweetest music he can hear.   
“Goddamnit, Dean, stop playing and stick it in me," Castiel pants. “Please, please."  
Dean decides to take a creative interpretation of “it" and buries his tongue in Castiel’s asshole.  
The taste is sweet- it actually is more like sugar than Dean would have expected, but there’s a thrill of something musky underneath. It’s addictive. It’s a drug.  
Castiel can’t make sound anymore. He’s paralyzed. He’s breathless. He’s breathing.   
Dean pulls away after a few minutes and removes his pants, careful of his own erect cock.  
The smell in the room skyrockets- the honey-candy sweet smell of desire, the iodine and oak bitterness of arousal.   
Castiel practically tackles him, and then Dean is laying down.  
Dean loves this part.   
Castiel guides himself over Dean’s cock, and he sinks down onto it, slowly.  
To be fair, Castiel really likes this part, too.   
Castiel bucks and screams and writhes on top of Dean, like a wild animal. Sometimes, at this point, he’d talk dirty, but the heat has him too far gone to be really mouthy at this point. Dean’s okay with that. He’s okay with pretty much anything that involves his dick in Cas.  
He comes, and then Cas wraps his hand over his own dick and comes, too.   
It’s messy and fast and hard and satisfying. The changes with the addition of their come, and with Castiel's heat slaked, he's content to lean over Dean and fall asleep on top of him. 

* * *

The pregnancy test comes back negative. 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean starts coming home gingerly, and he starts bringing flowers, too. 

It's been eight months, and they still haven't had any luck. The first three or four times, they were disappointed but not surprised. But it kept happening and it kept happening.

And now Dean comes home and Castiel sits on the living room floor in the dark. 

Dean shuts the door and he sits down across from Castiel. 

He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of a sweatshirt. 

"Ash called," he says. "He- he wanted to know if the house should have a nursery. For pups. And I didn't- I didn't-"

He sighs, and the sound shudders through his whole body. 

It's gotten harder and harder for Castiel. 

Dean holds him. "Do you want a nursery?" He asks. 

Castiel nods. "But I don't want it to be empty," he whispers.

"It doesn't have to be. It won't be. Cas, we can still adopt. We can foster." He rubs Castiel's arms. "Have I shown you the site? The property where the house is going to be?"

Castiel nods. 

"You wanna get out of the house?" Dean asks. 

Castiel nods again. 

"Okay," he says. "Give me a minute."

Dean ducks into the bedroom and throws some of their clothes into a bag. Grabs a couple of thick blankets and some pillows. 

He comes back into the living room and helps Castiel to his feet. "Come on, baby," he says. "Let's go for a drive."

Castiel nods. Dean locks the door. They walk away from their lives. 

Dean turns the radio on, and something sweet plays. Sounds a bit like Bob Dylan. He turns it up just a little- Cas likes Bob Dylan, even if Dean thinks he sounds like a sack of wet cats. 

Castiel sighs and looks out the window. 

Dean has always loved the road. He's always been a rambler- a roamer. He's lived in the city these past few years for the job, but he's always loved the country and the woods. 

They whip out of the city and blaze down the highway until they wind up on a rural route. Dean knows this road. He drove it the night Cassie left him, the night he left Lisa, the night his dad died.

The road goes on and ends at a point. They're far enough from the city that they don't get the light pollution, that the star are out. 

"Come on, you should see this," he says. 

They walk out of the car and Dean lays out the blankets. The pillows.

They lie down together, and Castiel spoons in close to him. 

Dean points up at the sky. "That's the evening star. Venus," he says. 

Castiel's blue eyes follow his finger to that point of light.  Castiel smiles. "Goddess of fertility," he murmurs. 

"And love," Dean adds. 

Castiel kisses his cheek.

Dean kisses him back. 

Castiel goes for his mouth. 

It's slow and soft. 

Dean looks at him. He's a little softer now that he's living with Dean. He eats more often. He speaks his mind, but not with so much venom or bitterness. He doesn't have to prove anything with Dean. He's easier. He's not scared. 

Dean doesn't get why he makes Cas happy, but he's so glad that he does. 

They fall asleep under the stars, and they wake up with the mid- autumn dew on their faces. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope.

Castiel picks up a stomach bug he can’t shake. He tries all of the over the counters medications, he tries altering his diet- he tries it all and he just can’t keep anything down. He doesn’t tell Dean about it, though.

The house is coming along well. He bikes out to the site every morning- he’s staying in a little apartment in the town near the woods.

Castiel likes construction work. He likes working with nails and boards and his hands. Dean comes out in the weekends and stays with Castiel and works too.

He still feels the emptiness of not being able to have a pup, the failure of his infertility, but it’s dulled and changed by his work on the house. His body can still make. He can still create, dammit.

He bikes quickly to the site, the activity warming him, and when he glimpses that long, black car in between the trees he goes a little faster.

Dean looks out on the concrete foundation and the beginnings of pipe work and scaffolding. His back is to Castiel, and he stands bowlegged and proud.

Castiel runs and tackles him. Dean takes the attack in stride and laughs brightly.

“Hello, Dean" Cas says, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, Baby, what’s up?" Dean replies. “The house looks amazing."

“Aw, no, it’s a mess," Castiel says. “Ash told me we can’t lay brick until Spring- the mortar might freeze unevenly in the cold."

“Really?" Dean says, shrugging Castiel from his shoulders. “Fuck."

Castiel feels the twinge of his stomach bug suddenly. “I’ll be right back," he says. “Bug Ash."

As he dashes to the bathroom, he hears Dean call, “Hey! Ash! What the fuck is up with the mortar?"

Castiel has gotten used to vomiting in the port-a-john. He isn’t even bothered by the smell anymore. He finishes, panting, and comes up from his kneel. He runs his fingers through his sweaty hair and heads back outside. Cold. Bracing.

Dean is next to the door, concerned. “Hey, are you okay?" He asks.

“Yeah," Castiel answers. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just had a stomach but for the past few weeks. It passes by noon, but it tends to flare up. I’m fine. Really, Puppy."

Dean frowns, concerned. “Okay," he says. He stops frowning. “How sold on the idea of brick are you? Ash knows a guy who could do this like a cabin and we could have a house by March."

Castiel smiles. “I think I could do a cabin. A little cabin in the woods, just you and me," he answers.

The adoption counselor told them it could be years before they got a pup. Alpha/alpha couples take precedent, she explained. They have more difficulty conceiving.

They’re at peace with that, though. Baby Mary is old enough to start spending nights away from home, and they’ve set up a makeshift room for her at the apartment in the city.

Castiel wants a pup, and Dean wants one too, but Castiel knows that Dean can be enough for him.

They can be enough.

They go home after a few hours, and Dean smells delicious. After a day’s work outside, he smells like cedar wood and the ocean and clay. Dean hates his smell, but Castiel doesn’t understand it. He wants to be in Dean’s smell all the time. Dean smells strong and virile and safe. Castiel’s smell is empty . Over sweet. Fragile.

His little apartment near the woods isn’t as nice as Dean’s big one in the city, but it’s nice in it’s own way. It’s the first time Castiel’s ever had a space of his own- his own room, his own bathroom, his own kitchen. It feels startlingly empty most of the time. Castiel doesn’t have things. Dean doesn’t have that much stuff either, but Castiel doesn’t have, well, anything. He’s got a couple of books and he has a bunch of clothes, but he doesn’t want a television (no real compulsion to watch it) and he doesn’t have a radio (he doesn’t really know any of the songs). He has his picture of him and his dad, but other than that, no decorations.

Dean stands in the doorway to Castiel’s apartment like he always does, and he says, “Baby, if you want some posters or something we could go to a print shoppe.”

Castiel smiles at him. “I’m fine,” he says. “I enjoy the peace of empty space.”

Dean smiles crookedly at him. Kisses his cheek, and then frowns. “Are you sure it’s just been a stomach bug? You smell different,” he says. “Kind of...herbal? Like, lemongrass maybe?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve been running a little hot lately, but other than the vomiting, I’ve been fine.”

Dean smells him again, long inhales. “Mm. Not lemongrass, bergamot, maybe? It’s more plants and less sugars. And maybe...maybe, I don’t know, like...like honeysuckle.” A satisfied rumble boils in Dean’s chest.

Castiel squirms happily in his arms. “You always smell good,” he says. “Do we have a plan for dinner?”

Dean shrugs. “Not really. You sure your stomach can handle it?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says. “It’s only a problem in the morning.”

Dean freezes. “In the mornings?” he says. “Are you sure?”

Castiel nods. “Yeah, it’s usually not a problem by about ten-”

“So you could say that it’s only sickness in the mornings,” Dean continues. “You could say it’s morning sickness.”

They run out of the apartment so fast they forget to shut the door. They speed out of the parking lot to the convenience store, screeching on the pavement.

They tear into the 7-11 and shout, “Pregnancy test!”

The clerk points to a shelf and they grab the box. Dean throws a wad of cash at the guy and they climb into the bathroom.

Castiel pisses on the stick.


End file.
